No More Running Away
by Magical Me6666
Summary: Love is 3/4 dream and 1/4 reality. Problems usually arise when you fall in love with the dream and not the reality. But, yet you find true love when you fall in love with both."
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **No More Running Away

**Rating: **T (may change to M for later chapters)

**Synopsis: **This is sort of a gathering of little vignettes, each part inspired by a certain quote or lyric. Some fluffy, some not so fluffy, but Detty all the way. And also to note, if you expect them to break down and confess undying love, this isn't the fic for you. I just don't believe it would happen like that. That's not to say I don't want it to, I just don't think the characters are in that place yet.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. God damn it.

**Suggested Playlist: **PJ Harvey, One Line; The Calling, Wherever You Will Go; the Cardigans, You're The Storm; Carly Simon, You Are My Sunshine; Air Traffic, Shooting Star; Britney Spears, Out From Under; Flashing Lights, Kanye West; U2, With or Without You; Leona Lewis (or Snow Patrol), Run; the Saturdays, Up; Pat Benatar, Love is a Battlefield

**Notes: **I'm not the type to not finish a story so I will be coming back to 'Of Mistletoe and Kisses'. It's just this just popped into my head. This is the first of three parts. Feedback is good for the soul I hear....*sticks out tongue*

_Do you remember the first kiss/stars shooting across the sky/ to come to such a place as this/you never left my mind_

She sits on top of the conference table, feet tucked in underneath her, chewing on a mouthful of Chinese. Occasionally she glances sideways at Daniel, usually when he throws something or curses aloud. It isn't the first time they have had to rethink a cover last minute, but she thinks Daniel just likes the drama. It's why he yells a lot. Deep down she knows that he knows they will pull it together.

They always do.

"A heart attack," she mumbles. He throws her a look, one with the intention of scaring her down to her core. She instead rolls her eyes. Daniel knows he can never scare her. She trusts him too much and this in turn scares the hell out of him. Betty Suarez is one of the only people in the world who has complete faith in his abilities. Sometimes he wonders why.

"I can't think," he replies, rubbing his temples.

"Of course you can't," she sighs, "You're too busy assaulting pencils."

He jumps up from his seat and begins to pace. She can be so...._infuriating _sometimes. Although he has to hand it to her – usually she'll let him have his tantrums without a word until after. Tonight she's just tired. He watches as she gently removes one leg from beneath her and stretches it out. She rubs her neck, eyes, throat, drawing attention to her now dipping cleavage line. She must have undone some buttons on her blouse he thinks absentmindedly. He has this absurd urge to reach out and play with the pink flowered buttons there but shakes it off. _Just tired _he thinks.

"Well have you come up with anything smartass?" he throws back.

"Working on it," Betty utters with such calm he almost feels it too. He lets out another groan, hooking both arms around the back of his neck. She watches him curiously as he moves over the glass partition separating them from the main entrance hall. He places both palms on the cold glass and bends over, focusing on his feet.

Betty blushes when she realises what her eyes have focused on. That certainly isn't allowed. Besides it was just an accident. She was watching him move and that's the position he ended up in. She couldn't help it if he pushed his rear end in her face.

"Molly," she spits out suddenly. She regrets it as soon as the words come out. She really doesn't want to know. She doesn't want him to disappoint her and she certainly doesn't want him hurt.

Daniels eyes shoot open, and he raises his head to focus on the desk out the window.

"What about her?" he asks quietly.

"She seems nice, really nice," Betty replies, pushing her pen and pad to the side. She rests her feet on the chair in front of her, exuding pressure on the flats of her palms which press on the table.

"She's ok," he chokes out.

"Ok? Daniel I saw the size of the cheque. She must be better than ok." Betty half laughs on the last part, trying to keep the subject light.

"She's nice Betty ok?" he snaps, standing up, "She's...out of my league."

"And engaged," Betty adds, after a moment. He turns, glaring.

"I know that."

"Just reminding you. Sofia was engaged too."

"I know that too," he grits out through clenched teeth. She can tell she's skating on thin ice. She doesn't really care. Sometimes Daniel Meade needs a reality check. And on this she really doesn't approve.

"Engaged to your friend..."

"Jesus Betty, state the obvious much?" he sighs. She merely shrugs, her gaze falling to her feet. She likes her shoes. Butterfly stitching lines the bright yellow background. Only one thing she likes more than butterflies and that's fairies. She laughs inwardly that her mind should drift like this while arguing with Daniel. It's not that she's not taking him seriously, or even scared he's angry with her, it's just that she can't help any of those things. If it's going to happen, if he's going to be mad, then so be it.

"Someone has to give you a reality check Daniel," she murmurs, waving her shoes from side to side. He wonders briefly where her mind is. He loves how she can still focus while being somewhere completely different in her head. He'd like to be there sometimes too. Curiosity he guesses.

"Don't even know why we're discussing this; it's none of your business."

"Just like Henry was none of yours."

Her reply stings a little but he ignores the feeling. She is not to have that type of hold over him. She gauges the reaction, glancing up through honey brown bangs. She's a little satisfied that she can hurt him. Not that she enjoys it but it's nice to know she can. It means he cares and from time to time everyone needs reminding of that.

Sighing she realises she took it too far. "Just...promise me you won't do anything stupid?"

"Can't promise that. Stupid is my middle name," he moans. Betty hates it when he wallows in the depths of his own self pity. It was beginning to grate on her nerves, because he knows rightly that she doesn't think he is stupid. Far from it.

"Daniel," she warns, cocking an eyebrow. He loves that look. That half smile, half "don't' you dare".

"I'll try not to do anything stupid," then he hastily adds, "For you."

She flashes him a smile, bearing the metal of her braces.

He was growing more attached to that smile every day.

_You're a cutie if it all falls through/we can piece it back together/I can learn to trust you too/ you're just too good to lose/and I can't refuse/so don't make me choose between the two/I'm fed up in here/in my atmosphere/don't you know who you are/you're my shooting star_

She can't sleep. Again. For possibly the fourth night in a row. She blames the heat. She can never get comfortable partly because she loves to hug her blanket as she falls asleep, however in current climates, that just wasn't possible. Not if she didn't want to melt. She tosses again, tugging at her t-shirt uncomfortably. She desperately wants to shed it but a little nagging voice in her head reminds her she isn't _that _girl.

She hears a roar of an engine from outside. It echoes through the apartment, and she's sure the whole street is probably awake. Some asshole with a really small penis is obviously trying to make up for it. She hears her trashcan being knocked over and a cat screeching.

_Oh great. _

She throws her legs out the side of her bed and pads over to the window, pulling the drapes to one side. Her eyes fall on Daniels car – a jet black Lamborghini, complete with blue under lights reflecting off the road, and butterfly doors. It reminds her of a spaceship and, she smiles, at the ridiculous thought of Daniel in a space suit.

She watches as he clambers out and inspects the bin, exasperated. Deciding now is a good time to acknowledge the fact he has woken her and half the neighbourhood up, she cranks open her window. He hears a wolf whistle, and looks up, startled.

"You need to learn to park Meade," she calls out, leaning forwards. He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed he's been caught.

"Sorry about your....trashcan..." he replies, frowning at the overturned metal.

"Apologise to my neighbours," she laughs. "I see you're over compensating again."

"I see you're just as colourful when going to bed," he calls back with a lop-sided grin. Glancing down at her smiley face t-shirt, she rolls her eyes, sticking out her tongue. He strides up her front path, both hands in the pockets of his black Armani suit. His collar is undone, his black tie hanging open against the crisp white of his Prada shirt.

What? She's been working at Mode for three years now. She has picked some things up.

"Ok Boss. You've officially got my attention," she says in a way that makes him shiver in over 90 degree heat.

"Come for a ride with me?" he asks, his head jerking towards his car.

"Why?"

"I feel like looking at the city."

"At 5am?"

"I told you to call me whenever. Works both ways Suarez."

"Yeah but I wouldn't wake up half your neighbours because I'm trying to show off," she argues lightly. He gazes up at her hanging out her bedroom window. He has this ridiculous thought that it reminds him of that scene from Romeo and Juliet. Except she's not Juliet and he's certainly not Romeo.

"Come on," he orders quietly. Ordering her around is not something he tries to do often. He knows the response he'd be met with. But he has a feeling tonight she might just do it. It's in the air. Or lack thereof.

"Give me a minute to get decent," she sighs.

"Don't change on my account." The way he says it, the husky flirty voice, the sultry look in his eyes, startles her and she freezes for a second. Surely Daniel Meade hadn't just tried to flirt with her? That is a dynamic of their relationship never explored. It just isn't how they are wired. Not with each other. She briefly wonders why they've never flirted, especially in their assistant/boss relationship, but doesn't dwell on the thought for long.

He has noticed the effect he has over her when flirting and he can't decide if it's a good thing. She seems frozen, and he wonders if he's made her uncomfortable.

"You going to change then, or are you contemplating jumping?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"Patience," she smiles, disappearing in her window.

He's not sure why he has ended up here. Outside his assistants house in the early hours of the morning. He has been drinking, yes, but it seems to have worn off so he can't really blame alcohol. His brain was just working overtime tonight, and he wanted to talk to someone, but mostly her. Could it have waited until a more appropriate time and place? Yes. Did he want to wait? No. Daniel Meade really doesn't have the patience for waiting. He usually gets what he wants, sometimes it takes money, sometimes it takes his unrelenting charm, sometimes it takes both.

Depending on the thing he wants. Nothing is ever really too far from his reach. Except Molly._ No sir'ee, can't go there...._

The front door swings open and Betty Suarez stands in the frame. Her hair is frazzled, tied back roughly in a pony tail. She's wrapped up in her puffy blue coat, tracksuit bottoms peak out, and are stuffed into a pair of brown boots. She's a mismatch of colours, and he finds it endearing. He's probably one of the few who would.

The thought crosses his mind if this is what she looks like after sex. All rough and tousled.

_Whoa...where did that come from? _

Betty and sex never ended up in the same sentence together. Ever. The thought just never really crossed his mind to think of her in that way. Why would it? He wouldn't think of Becks after sex, why would he Betty?

_Now you're just disturbing yourself. _

"What's wrong?"

Daniel looked like a deer caught in headlights and it unnerves her.

"Nothing," he chokes out, "You look ridiculous."

"Oh I'm sorry, my Chanel is getting dry cleaned," she quips, jumping down her steps. "Come on Meade, we're both in work at 9am so you got me for two hours max."

He races ahead of her and pulls open the door. She grins. He never forgets the charm offensive. Even with her. His father trained him well. Manners are one of the few things Daniel never forgets. Even when he's dumping a girl. He always remembers to send flowers or jewellery, but Betty isn't sure if this is a good or bad thing.

She slides in on top of the Italian leather, and has this absurd thought that she is not allowed to touch anything. It seems surreal she should even be near a car like this, never mind being a passenger. He jumps in the driver's seat, both doors fluttering closed at the same time.

"Buckle up," he commands, pressing a button. The car starts up on command, purring gently.

"Daniel," she says suddenly, "Have you been drinking tonight?"

She knows he has. She isn't stupid. She can smell the expensive champagne. It's oozing out of every pore. And even if, more likely when, he answers with yes, she won't jump out of the car and walk away like she should. She'll stay. Because deep down Betty Suarez craves a little danger, and Daniel Meade embodies that danger. From the car he owns, right down to his taste in suits. And for tonight she wants to be part of his untouchable world. Riding in this car tonight will give her a taste of what it's like to be one of his girlfriends. Not that she wants to be one, but there's a curiosity there that just screams out in need of satisfaction.

_Daniel Meade equals danger. _She makes a mental note to remember that for when she wakes up in a hospital bed later.

"Yup," he replies, a little too casually for her liking. "That a problem?"

It's not that he doesn't care if she's safe or not. He does, but he knows he's not inebriated. He knows he's untouchable. Which should tell him that he is indeed perhaps not fit enough to drive, but Betty is a big girl. She'll say no if she wants to.

"Nope," she replies after a pause, "Just don't kill me Meade. Or I'll haunt you."

He chuckles, the engine roaring as he pulls out sharply. Betty's hand instinctively reaches for the handle, gripping it has he shifts the car up a gear. The stereo pings to life, Kanye West's Flashing Lights echoing loudly in her ears. It seems ridiculous to her that she should even know this song, let alone who sings it.

"Oh that reminds me, you need to give me that number so I can confirm Kanye for the Mode Christmas party," she spits out. He roars around a bend, the back of his car swinging out.

_I'm going to die _Betty thinks, gripping tighter.

"No shop talk," Daniel replies, letting the wheel slip through his grip. He's a good driver, no scratch that, he's a fantastic driver. He handles a car exactly how he handles his women. He needs them fast and sleek, but he can seduce it into doing whatever he wants with minimal effort. No matter how big the challenge.

She gazes at him from the side, considering how immature he still really is. Of course he's grown up since meeting her but he's still that Playboy at heart. Flashy car, flashy apartment, tall, beautiful women. Some things Betty might not ever be able to change.


	2. Use Somebody

**_Note from Author: _**I was stunned by all your wonderful reviews, I really loved them. Thank you all so much for reading this, I'm really trying my best to improve. This used to come a lot easier to me but it's taking a while to come back lol. xxx

_You know that I could use somebody/you know that I could use somebody/someone like you/off in the night while you live it up I'm off to sleep/waging wars to shake the poet and the beat/I hope that's gonna make you notice someone like me_

Betty has grown accustomed to the silence of her life now. Without any romantic entanglements (no Henry, no Gio, no Jesse), it had grown quiet. Her personal life that was, her work life had been and always would be..._colourful. _But sometimes on nights like this, when Amanda was out and she sat alone watching old films she felt it.

Lonely.

It wasn't like she couldn't pick up the phone and call her family, or Christina but it seemed like right now all she was doing was interrupting their lives. Everyone seemed to be finding their way – everyone except for her. Maybe she spent too much time concentrating on her career. She convinced herself it was what she wanted more than anything. Perhaps her and Wilhelmina did have more in common than she cared to admit. She flicked the mute button on the remote and silence echoed through her apartment. She could hear traffic, people talking, all from outside.

The thought crosses her mind that she should call Daniel, he'd come over. She dismisses this idea quickly, finding it ridiculous. Knowing Daniel he's not exactly lonely right now. So she makes a decision. If her life is work, work is what will keep her company in the early hours of this Friday morning.

She brushes the butter off her fingers and on to her grey tracksuit bottoms and reaches for her blue coat, snuggling into the warmth. Finished with a hat, glove and scarf she grabs her handbag and locks up the apartment, escaping the loneliness and entering the busy world of New York on a Friday night. Surprisingly, she hails a cab quickly and clambers in, giving him the address.

"Working late?" he asks in a distinctly thick New York accent. She shrugs.

"I never stop working," she replies, trailing her finger down the condensation of the glass.

"It's coming up to Christmas, you'd think your boss would give you a break," he comments, changing lanes. Betty smiles.

"You're working late too."

"I'm an old man," he chuckles, "The seasons begin to blur at my age."

"I'm beginning to feel like that too," she sighs.

"Too young for that," he says, glancing in his mirror at her, "Sure you want me to take you to work at 2am?"

She meets his eyes, considering his question. "Yes," she replies after a pause,"I'll get a head start."

He's quiet for the rest of the journey, letting her out at the building and wavering the fare because "it's Christmas." For a New York cabbie to wave a fair he must really feel sorry for her. She thanks him and heads inside, mumbling pleasantries to Larry the security guard as she passes the desk.

The elevator is even quieter than the apartment and a lot smaller. Leaning against the wall she closes her eyes as she shrugs out of her gloves, scarf and hat. She really wishes she has somewhere else to be. She wishes that her work didn't define her like it does. The ping of the door startles her and she bustles out heading for her desk.

Rounding the corner she's surprised when she sees a soft light from Daniel's office, and she pulls off her coat, throwing it onto her desk along with her other belongings. He hasn't noticed her yet. He's at his desk, leant back in his chair, feet propped up, eyes closed. She wonders why on earth he's here. Daniel is by no means a lonely man, nor is he a man to work late on a Friday evening.

She quietly pads up his office doors.

"Knock knock." It comes out quieter than she intended, and it's so soft it hardly surprises him. His eyes open, falling on his assistant, shadowing in his doorway.

"Betty?" he asks, "What you doin' here?"

"Could ask you the same question Boss," she smiles. He watches the way she walks. Sometimes she reminds him of a ballerina, but only when she's quiet and reserved. She walks with this grace, like she'll wake someone up if she stomps too hard. He's charmed by it.

"I wanted to look over some photos," he replies, straightening up.

"On a Friday?" she asks, cocking her head to the side, her gaze soft but a little confused. He notices her hair is tied back, revealing the olive tones of her neck. He shakes himself and shrugs.

"What about you?"

"I...I got a bit lonely in the apartment."

"What about your family?"

"What about your mum?"

"You gonna answer every question with a question?"

"Are you?" she grins cheekily.

"Women," he mutters standing up. He leans back on the front of his desk, his gaze following her to his sofa.

"I feel safe here," she says after a long while of companionable silence.

"Me too," he concedes. She looks lost on his sofa. It occurs to him that this may be, for the first time, that they're both lost. It's always one of them pulling the other out. He wonders about this new dynamic and selfishly questions who will help him. He sits beside her letting out a long sigh.

"I'm in love with my best friend's fiancé," he chokes out, staring at his clenched hands. She regards him with renewed interest and fully intends on lecturing, before reconsidering. Instead she answers his problem with one of her own.

"I'm lonely," she says very simply. It's said with so little emotion he wonders if she truly understands the feeling of loneliness.

"You have everyone Betty," he says, but it is now he catches a glimpse of her face. Tears roll down her cheeks, dripping onto the red of her t-shirt. He smiles inwardly at the image of Mickey Mouse gracing the front.

"Yeah...but I don't just have someone," she sniffles, wiping her cheeks. His hand creeps up her back, along her spine sending shivers through her. The movement is slow and deliberate rather than comforting and Daniel realises, quickly moving his arm around her shoulders.

"What can I do?"

"My Mammi used to sing to me when I was sad," she smiles, her eyes welling, "You Are My Sunshine....that was our song. It's her anniversary this week."

"I don't have a very good voice."

"It's ok Daniel...I don't expect you to," she breathes, her body trembling. He hates her like this. He wants Betty back.

"Sssh," he says, pulling them both back against the sofa. She leans in resting her head on his shoulder. His hand finds itself tangled in her hair and he plants a formless kiss on top of her head.

"I'm sorry Betty."

She sniffles and nods, burying further into her friend. Closing his eyes he realises he's actually going to give this a try. She feels his tummy vibrate as he opens his mouth, considering the words.

"You...are...my...sunshine..." he sings, his voice low and gravelly. She smiles and he can feel it against his skin. He reaches for her hand with his free one and knots their fingers together. "My only sunshine..."

She sighs, fighting the urge to sob against her best friend, instead joining him.

_You make me happy, when skies are grey. _

Resting his chin on top of her head, Daniel has the overwhelming urge to look after this girl forever. To protect her and to keep her safe. It's ridiculous and it stuns him nearly knocking the wind from his lungs.

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. _

To see them tangled in each other singing a child's lullaby must be silly to any outsider she thinks. But she's glad, abhorrently glad, she found Daniel tonight. If for tonight the roles have been reversed, and he is saving her. It's rare that Betty would give all her power to anyone, she's very self reliant, but in this moment, her heart is Daniels and he's minding it like crystal in the palm of his hand. It dawns on her then he is one of the few men she can depend on and she hopes he'll stay.

She needs him too.


	3. The Heart Of The Matter

**_A/N: _**Err so apparently not a three parter after all. I don't like this part. It sucks. :( I do apologise but I couldn't play about with it anymore. It was driving me insane.

_And I thought of all the bad luck/and all the struggles we went through/how I lost me and you lost you/what are these voices outside love's open door/make us throw off our contentment/and beg for something more?/I've been learning to live without you now/but I miss you sometimes/the more I know, the less I understand/all the things I thought I knew, I'm learning them again_

"You left the Book on your desk again."

Betty holds out the heavy folder with one hand, her bag slung over her free arm.

"I...uh...thanks...I," Daniel stutters over his words, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. She eyes him, her head tilted in observation.

"You left quickly enough," she says, trying to peer over his shoulder, "Not like you. Not anymore."

"I had to meet someone," he replies quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes narrow and Daniel knows the look all too well. She's sussing him out. "What?"

"Daniel Meade..." she scolds, keeping her voice low, "Is she here?"

He knows who she means, and his eyes dart away from hers, focusing on a spot on the neighbours door.

"No."

"Liar." _Pants on fire. _

"She's not!" His voice is a little squeaky and Betty frowns, clearly unimpressed. _Someone doth protest too much. _

"You wouldn't mind if I came in for coffee then?" she suggests, her hands disappearing behind her back, "It's been ages since we've had a real good catch up."

Daniel is staring at her with a mix of anger and frustration. Sometimes, only sometimes, Betty Suarez was the annoying older sister he never signed on for. He however didn't like referring to her in this way often. He wasn't sure why, just the idea of Betty in a sisterly way didn't..._sit_...with him very well.

"Well?" she asks, raising both eyebrows, in that innocent little way of hers that he despises so much. She doesn't wait for an answer, instead pushing past him in the doorway. She's surprisingly strong for such a small person, nearly knocking him sideways as she forces her way into his overly pompous New York studio. He watches as she stomps into the middle of his living area, looking around in confusion.

_Well this was embarrassing. _

"Well?" he repeats her question, quietly confident as he follows her in. She does that little chin lift, defiant, I'm-not-wrong-just-mistaken thing she does oh so well and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry Daniel I just thought..." she trails off with a laugh, "I knew you wouldn't do that."

Just as the words left her mouth, she hears the flush of the toilet chain and her brow furrows, her head turning to the bathroom door.

"I'm surprised you have managed to hang your towels up, I'm beginning to think Connor doesn't know where to towel rail is..." Molly emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead at the sight of Daniels assistant in the living area. She looks at her then to Daniel and then back at the pretty, olive toned, black haired girl. "Hi."

"Hi Molly, I'm-"

Molly stops her with a head shake and smile. "I know who you are Betty, I remember. Good seeing you again."

"You too," Betty replies in a quiet voice. Molly watches Betty's gaze fall back on her boss and there's this look between them...something she can't seem to figure out. _Disappointment? No it's a little worse...confusion? _She doubts that, his assistant seems fairly aware of what's going on. _Hurt? _Hurt. That must be it. But why would this hurt her? Molly glances sideways catching Daniel's eye. He stares back at her like a deer caught in headlights and Molly bites down on her lower lip, wondering what she's getting in the middle of.

"Well..." Betty sighs, smiling feebly at the young teacher, "I was only dropping the book in so I'm gonna take off."

"You're not staying?"

"No, I have work in the morning, and I'm exhausted."

"Oh. Ok. Well it was good seeing you again," Molly tells her, watching as Daniel ushers Betty from his apartment. He looks back at Molly, merely shrugging to indicate something and she's not sure what. She assumes it's some form of apology for having his assistant interrupt their evening. But something tells her Betty Suarez is as much a part of Daniels private life as she is his working one. They disappear behind his front door and Molly returns to the sofa, wondering if what she's about to do is such a good idea after all.

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"What are you thinking?" Betty hisses in a low whisper. She can feel Daniel's firm grip of her elbow leading her down the hall, away from his front door and prying ears. He certainly didn't want Molly to hear this.

"It's none of your business!" he snaps back still holding her. She feels his grasp tighten and she doesn't like it. It's how he always reminds her he has the power; he's the stronger of the two. He doesn't do it in such a way that intimidates or frightens, merely a warning to stay in her place, which in its own way is far worse than any threat.

"It's my business Daniel if this is gonna affect our working environment!" she bites out through clenched teeth. He raises his head, confused.

"Why would it affect our working environment? There's nothing between you and I, why should this bother you?"

His response stuns her and she blinks furiously, the only sound between them being heavy breathing and the shuffling of Betty's feet as she backs away.

"What?"

"What?" he repeats her question. _Oh crap. She wasn't implying that. You're such a dickhead Daniel. _He also makes the mental note of _what the fuck _but decides to deal with that bit later.

"I know there's nothing between us Daniel," she sighs, "Jesus you'd think I was a kid with a crush or something. Not everyone has a thing for Daniel Meade ya know?"

_Ouch. _He didn't think he was that repulsive to her.

"Whatever, point is stop getting involved in my private life! You don't belong there!"

Her eyes snap open, filled with rage and frustration. She wants to strangle the man in front of her so he'll disappear and won't confuse her life anymore than it's already confused.

"I belonged there after Sofia, and Petra, and Renee," she whispers, gesturing wildly. His mouth snaps shut, and he tries desperately to find a response. Any response. But there's nothing and he merely manages a noise, which Betty assumes is a grunt.

"Daniel this is a bad idea, please," she implores, deciding to try to softer approach. But Daniel's having none of it.

"I'm not gonna do anything!" he retorts sharply, "And even I did, as I said, this is none of your business so just butt out!"

"I'm trying to give you some advice here," she says, both hands on her hips, her face tilted to the floor.

"Yeah 'cause you're the expert. Henry left the State to get away from you, and Gio never wants to talk to you again!"

Suddenly she forgets the fact Daniel has neighbours, in this building and the next, and lets out the angriest groan he has ever heard from anyone as small as her.

"Oh you know what Daniel?"

"What?"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Go hang yourself with your Prada scarf and die!" she screams. He stares at her, shocked and without response. She however seems satisfied, giving her a hair a little toss and turning on her heel into the now awaiting elevator.

_Man she has timing. _

The doors bing closed, and just as stormy as her arrival was, so is her exit. He's left angry, out of breath, and surprised at his assistant and friend. He considers going after her but he's too mad, still reeling from their argument. Instead he returns to his apartment, praying, but knowing, Molly did in fact heat the heated row between the two friends.

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_What is that noise?_

The high pitched sound echoes through Betty's head and she buries her face further into her pillow. Still it wouldn't stop, and she bangs around with a hand on her dresser in an attempt to turn off what she assumes is her alarm.

_It can't be that time already. _

She screws open one eye, the digital numbers on her clock simply a blur. She realises now it's pitch black, still middle of the night, and it dawns on her the noise might not be a beeping more than it sounds like a ringing. Her hand searches the table again and she finds the receiver, bring it to her ear.

"Hello?" she says, half grunting, half yawning. She hears a noise on the other end, much like someone dropping something and she frowns, repeating her greeting. After no response she merely states her intent to hang up before being met with a gruff male voice.

"Betty?" he asks. Daniel.

She sits up in bed, reaching for her side lamp.

"Daniel...what's wrong?" she asks, "It's 2AM. Has something happened?"

"You were right," comes a slurred response, "I should die. I'm a terrible friend. I yelled at you, I tried to steal Connors fiancé. A Prada scarf is too good for me."

Awake, and both frightened and oddly amused by her best friend she presses the phone harder to her ear barely to make out his drunken speech.

"Where are you? Are you ok? Is Molly there?"

"She's gone. Everyone's gone," he sighs, "I just wanted to say...sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for being mean. You are in my life. I like having you there. I don't deserve it though."

"Ok Daniel, where are you?"

No reply.

"Daniel?"

"In my apartment," he chokes out, "But you shouldn't come over. It's not pretty."

"Oh God, Daniel what have you done? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Betty's already stuffing her feet into a pair of trainers that always sit by her bed. She thinks she leaves them there for moments like this but she's not quite sure. Who anticipates their friends attempting suicide?

"No...I haven't done anything yet," he mumbles. She can hear him doing something, fumbling around in his apartment.

"Ok, promise me you won't?" she says, wrapping a cardigan around her shoulders, "Least until you talk to me first?"

More rummaging.

"Daniel?" she says. It comes out a little harsher than she intends but she can't help it.

"I promise."

"Good...I'll be there soon."

"Yeah."

"And Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it earlier."

"Me either."

And with that her phone dies in her hand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Betty is soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping down her face from her hair. It hadn't helped that all she had grabbed while leaving was a cardigan. It clings tightly and uncomfortably to her skin and she's desperate to shed the wet clothing. She stops at Daniels front door, and thinks that she's finding herself here more and more of late.

Both at his front door and saving him from himself.

She knocks, and calls his name softly. When he doesn't answer she repeats it. She doesn't want a repeat of the last time she had let herself into Daniel's apartment and gotten quite the eyeful of him and some German model. It wasn't exactly a memory that faded quickly from the mind. But still, this scenario was different.

"Betty?" a voice calls back. She hears him shuffle behind the door.

"Yeah? You gonna let me in?"

He bangs against the door and she winces. _That was his head. _Listening intently, she hears the sound of his keys jingling as he tries each one in the lock with very little success.

"Ok, Daniel, I'm gonna use my keys."

There's no response and she takes that as an acceptance. Digging into her pocket, she finds his apartment key and opens the front door with ease. The sight in front of her is quite one to behold. Daniel stands, key poised where the lock was, blinking like an owl. He looks at her, then back at the place where the lock should have been.

"Where'd it go?" he asks, clearly confused.

"I opened it."

"But I have my keys."

"But I have _a_ key."

"You're so smart," he sighs. She watches as he teeters down the hallway, banging off each wall on the way in, vodka in hand. She had to admit, she was expecting...well...more. More of what she isn't sure, but just more. Not that she isn't glad her best friend is still alive and well. She follows his path into his living room. Scarves lie strewn over the floor and she squints, confused.

"Um...Daniel?"

"Told you it wasn't pretty," he spits out after swigging from his bottle.

"What is all this?"

"I was looking for a scarf...to ya know..." he drags off with a heavy, defeated sigh. A huge part of her wants to laugh. Only Daniel would take something so literally.

"Which one did you decide on?" she asks, trying to keep composure.

"Couldn't do it," he mumbles. "I'm such a coward."

She looks up, regarding him with renewed concern. As laughable as this situation is, in her head at least, to him, this is very serious. To him, this is devastating.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"Slept with her," he slurs, "Then she left. You're wet?"

"Yeah. It's raining."

"I'm sorry, I got you cold and wet," he says, stumbling towards her. His drunken concern is touching and she watches as he places the vodka bottle dangerous close to the coffee tables edge and approaches her. He places both hands on either shoulder and rubs, in a feeble attempt to heat her.

"It's ok," she chokes out, barely a whisper. He's close. Very close. Closer than perhaps he should be. She can smell his alcohol soaked breath and feel the inviting warmth of his body. She feels his thumbs hook in between the fabric of her cotton wrap and slide it down her arms. She feels the string of her vest fall with it.

"Daniel? What are you doing?" she asks, her head fuzzy, almost like she's the one who has drank nearly a half litre of vodka.

"If you keep on wet clothes you'll catch a cold," he states simply. She smiles. His hands run down her bare arms. Her skin is softer than he thought it would be.

"Ok, tell you what we're gonna do?" Betty says, breaking the silence between them, "I can't bring you back to mine so we're gonna stay here alright? I'll sleep out here, you get into bed."

Wordlessly, she feels Daniel tug on her hand leading her towards his bed on the other side of the studio. She feels her heart pound in her chest as he stops and shrugs out of his suit jacket. She looks back at the sofa and then to Daniel. He's stopped undressing and is watching her. He looks lost, much like a child.

"Don't wanna be alone," he mumbles, in a sort of explanation.

"Ok."

She turns her back, tying her hair back in loose ponytail. She wants to get rid of the wet clothes, but knows how inappropriate it would be.

_Like this isn't already?_

She turns to find Daniel in his black boxers and socks, looking wonderingly at her, then the bed. She gives him a half smile, her mind racing with a million thoughts. The bed is still unmade from Molly and she can smell sex and sweat. Under normal circumstances this isn't something Betty would consider. She likes to think she has some moral standard and hopping directly into a man's bed, straight after he has had sex with another woman no matter how cute/hot/lost he looks was just a no no.

_He just wants a cuddle. Don't be so hard on him. _

She approaches the bed, shaking out the sheets and turning them down, before sliding beneath them. Daniel follows her lead and she feels the bed sink his side as the bedside lamp flickers out. All she can hear in the dark is his breathing – heavy and regulated. He scoots over, placing an arm across her waist, coaxing her into a spooning position, which she does admit is rather nice. It dawns on her now how long it has been since she's just been held by a man, hell by anyone. She feels the hard of his chest pressed against her back, his hand snaking up to her ponytail and pulling her hair free.

She doesn't ask, she doesn't question, instead lies in the dark letting her best friend plant a feather light kiss on top of her shoulder before falling asleep.


End file.
